


Lovebird

by mystery_deer



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Study, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, I truly don't know how to tag this at all as I feel it serves only my interest, Light Angst, Minor Original Character(s), Not BBC Sherlock, POV John Watson, Sappy, Sherlock is kind of there but it's really mostly just John thinking about him, dubious time period bc I can't commit or do research, he doesn't factor in like at all he's just there for John to do his thing, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: John Watson has a late lunch with a friend from the army and confesses that there's a chance he might maybe possibly be slightly in love.





	Lovebird

“So John, what’ve you been up to?” Asked Sargent Ormond Sacker, sucking down his milkshake with a cheerfulness that didn’t match his friend’s nervous mood.  
“I think I might be in love.” Realizing that he may be coming on too strong, John fiddled with his cane, which lay beside him on the booth cushion. “I mean, I think I might fancy someone.” He rolled his eyes when, as expected, the other man’s large hand slammed down on the table. Other patrons glanced up and then away when they found no fight about break out, only a show of inappropriate exuberance. 

“No shit? Well I’ll be!! John H Watson, the chronic bachelor, in love!?”  
“I said I think I MIGHT be in love.” He corrected, setting his drink back on the table (he had lifted it slightly in anticipation of this outburst). The Sargent had always been like this, even in their boyhood days. He stopped himself. His name was Ormond. Ormond, there was no need to call him Sargent anymore.   
“Well, what’s her name?”  
“Like I’d tell you.” He countered swiftly, taking a bite of his hamburger. It was late in the afternoon and though he was nervous as all hell he was also hungry. He swallowed without tasting as Ormond tried to guess at the name. “I said I won’t tell you.”  
“C’mon then, at least describe her to me!!”   
“Describe her?”  
“Yeah, what’s she like? What do you 'fancy' about her? Maybe we can figure out if you’re in love or not~?”

John contemplated this, then sighed. Sensing his victory, Ormond grinned.   
“Fine. She’s smart.”  
“Boring!”  
“Let me finish will you?” He laughed and Ormond followed suit. “Right bastard aren’t you? She’s smart, smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. But...she’s not obnoxious about it. Never, s..he makes me feel dumb as stone sometimes but I know it’s never her intention.” He trips over the pronouns a bit, rotates his shoulder. It aches in the rain and it rains all the time in London. “More often than not though she makes me feel smart and witty, like I’m keeping up with her. Like we’re equals.” He tries to imagine a woman, a woman with sharp gray eyes and dark hair.

“What’s she look like? Is she cute?”  
“Mondy.” He warned.  
“What? I don’t want my best friend going ‘round with a dog!”  
“-h..She’s not a dog!! She’s beautiful. She’s got fair skin and dark hair, and they contrast each other so spectacularly you might think her sickly at first, or frail. But she’s far from it.” Thinking about looks made him feel flighty and strange. He didn’t feel right, he was shot through with worry. What if he figures out? He shouldn’t be too accurate with his description.   
“She has long flowing locks that curl at the ends and she often keeps them out of her face with pins and ribbons.” He adds, building an imaginary woman in his head. Once she was made she stared at him blankly. “And..she has the most spectacular smile, though she doesn’t let most people see it. She isn’t very caught up with looks or fashion.” 

Ormond whistled low and gave John a grin. “Sounds like you hit the jackpot!! How’d you meet this beauty?”   
“We met through friends. At- At a party. They thought we’d get along.”  
“And you did~?”  
“We did.”  
“Sly dog!!” John turned red.   
“Not THAT well. What’s with the dogs today?”   
“Huh? Oh, I dunno. Sometimes you get stuck on things I guess.”  
“I guess.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit. The faux woman sat next to John and looked pretty, she caught his eye sometimes and he imagined they both felt warm and flushed. He pictured really meeting such a woman. Being introduced at a party, Dr John H Watson and his unnamed beau, waltzing together. He wondered if he knew how to waltz.

“What makes you think you’re in love? You’re not the type to fall for looks alone.”  
“No, I’m not.”  
“And being smart’s wonderful but I mean…” Ormond leaned in, suddenly serious in a way that made John’s stomach lurch. “What makes you feel like you might in love?”   
“I-”  
“Because that’s a pretty serious claim to make-”  
“Jesus, I know, what’s with you? All of a sudden.”  
“Sorry..sorry I just..” They lapsed into a short quiet. “I just don’t want you to make a mistake. I care about you.” John didn’t breathe as he parroted the words. Ormond nodded and both men refused to look at each other, the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable.

“I...I can’t stop thinking about her.” John admitted, like a gush of air coming from a long-stuck window. “I can’t...every moment I’m not with her I wish I were. I wish we could be together always and be partners in all things. When I say her name it has so much importance to me that it often feels heavy on my tongue and when I hear her say mine I hear it as if the name is new to me or like I’m new to language.”

Ormond opened his mouth but John continued, he couldn’t stop now he couldn’t stop he just couldn’t. If he stopped now he knew he’d never get started again.  
“When we’re together time goes by so fast I can’t tell day from night sometimes and when we talk I feel as if I’m talking to a half of myself. As if I’ve been separated at birth, split in two and now she’s here, holding half my heart. I want nothing more than to make her happy and I would do anything for her, I’d die for her, I’d give up my life if she asked me to and I know she wouldn’t.” His arm hurt. 

“Because she’s the kindest soul I’ve ever met, charitable and generous-” His leg hurt.   
“I’d given up on that after the war you know. I’d given up on kindness. I was in a bad spot for awhile there, thought the world was all rot and greed. People fighting for no reason and then throwing us away. I was living in a fucking halfway house, do you know how long and hard I fought? I nearly fucking died for this country and I was...and she…” His heart hurt.  
“She thinks the world is fascinating, and curious and strange. And she thinks I’m wonderful. S..She says that, that I’m wonderful. And it feels….it feels like I’m alive again. It feels like I’ve been dead since I got drafted. Lightning struck me down and she’s...electricity, bringing me back. Like that one story...that..” He stopped, running out of momentum, running out of words. His throat hurt. He gulped down peach tea and let the melted ice cubes slip between his teeth without chewing them. He half-wanted to choke. That’d suit him, bear his heart then die.

Ormond watched him in disbelief, his expression twisted in pain. They never talked about the war, they’d made a pact when in the trenches that if they lived they’d never talk about it and they’d stuck to it until now. “I’m...I’m sorry John.”   
John stared out the window. The faux woman got up and walked away. “It’s not-”

“Sorry to say it but you’re absolutely in love!” Startled, John looked back at Ormond, whose previously sorrowful expression had been wiped clean and been replaced by the familiar smile he always wore. “Ey!! Waitress!!! You got any champagne? This dummy’s in love!!” John watched the diner have a mini celebration seemingly from behind himself. He felt numb. Sherlock sat next to him in this space, smoking his pipe and looking above him in contemplation. John did the same, the ceiling was water-stained and unremarkable.

Before he’d left the house that afternoon Sherlock had been smoking his pipe and looking at the ceiling. He’d looked handsome with his rich red dressing gown draped around his fair skin. He’d run a hand through his dark hair and fixed John in place with a glance from his sharp gray eyes. “John, where are you going?” He’d asked.   
“To meet a friend. My army buddy, I told you about him?”  
“Ah, yes I remember now.” He’d said slowly. “The Sargent. Why are you so nervous then. Do you have bad news to tell him?”  
“I don’t know yet.” He’d replied, his hand growing sweaty on the metal door handle. “I don’t know. But I think... I think it might be good.”   
Sherlock had smiled then, sly and quick before settling back into quiet contemplation. “Be sure to tell me how it went, if it went interestingly.”

“Yeah.”  
“You hear that? Told you he’s in love~” Ormond declared. John blinked out of whatever spell he was under. He’d get lost in memories sometimes, he feared one day he’d go senile and live completely inside himself. He saw people like that in his practice, shell-shocked and vacant, so out of it they didn’t even stop themselves from drooling. He started to retreat again but stopped himself with a pinch on the thigh that sent shockwaves through his body.   
Ormond had an arm around the waitress’ waist, who was giggling as she set down two glasses of champagne. “On the house!” She tilted her head a bit. “What’s wrong Hon? You’re the saddest lil' lovebird I’ve ever seen.” 

John looked at his murky reflection in the glass. He reached out beside him and found only his cane, which he grabbed tightly in his fist. He felt immeasurably stupid for coming here, for doing this. He felt like a coward. He swallowed down the drink in one go, at Ormond’s delight. As he drank he took apart the faux woman and replaced her with the right parts, snipped her long hair and flattened her chest, sharpened her features and darkened her expression. Elongated her legs and dressed her up in a dark red dressing gown, pulled tight against that same fair skin.   
“Yeah.” He said, breathlessly. And even though he was surrounded by warmth and cheer, he felt like the lowest man in all of London.


End file.
